Thread Roulette: Nameplate

Sean Neville had a reputation around Hammel. He was the ever-calm, always patient psychiatrist, the one to whom students were sent to discuss their emotions, their personal problems, their social anxiety, and to whom students were sent when they misbehaved in class. He was a telepath, the old man who gave the annual sexual education seminar and lectured about the importance of honesty, good communication, and condoms.

He was long used to being the center of bets and dares among the student body. Games about who might make him lose his patience were commonplace. Practical jokes weren’t foreign. After all, a centerpiece to his sexual education seminar was the game of one-upmanship with previous senior classes, of who could pull the most embarrassing stunt.

Still, offices tended to be off-limits. It wasn’t as though no student dared to enter the office space for mischief, as that was patently false. An instance with James Campbell’s office came to mind as a counterexample. Still, faculty had something of a home field advantage in their offices, which tended to be enough to deter the students, forcing them to pull their pranks elsewhere.

Of course, “tended to” wasn’t synonymous with “always.”

One could have a sense of security in one’s office while still aware of the possibility. Vague as it might be. That was one of the many reasons why Sean didn’t wear headphones when doing paperwork in his office.